


A Cardamom Christmas

by Lisamc21



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Brief mention of Sebastien Raine, Christmas Fluff, Christmas market, David Rose the Artist, David and Stevie are BFFs, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Like too many sausage jokes, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pastries as a love language, Patrick Brewer the Baker, Patrick and Rachel are BFFs, Pre-Relationship, Sausage jokes, Slow Burn, trolling as a love language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27766087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisamc21/pseuds/Lisamc21
Summary: David is stressed about work and decides to check out the nearby Christmas market. He expects to find lunch and maybe a Christmas gift or two. Hedoesn'texpect to meet a charming baker who dishes teasing quips as much as sweet treats. David returns to the market each day to get another taste of Patrick the baker.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 131
Kudos: 368
Collections: Schitt's Creek: Frozen Over (2020)





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCFrozenOver2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCFrozenOver2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> David and Patrick meet at a Christmas Market/Winter Fair. Maybe there's an instant connection? Maybe they get competitive over carnival games? Maybe they bond over Baileys hot chocolate? Maybe they keep coming back to the market/fair each day hoping to see each other again? 
> 
> How they meet and fall for each other is Dealer's choice!

_**Day 1 of the Christmas market** _

“Are you constipated or angry?” Stevie leaned against the door frame of David’s studio.

“You obviously know the answer to that.” David looked away from his canvas long enough to shoot a menacing glare her way.

Stevie shrugged and looked at him with a don’t-give-a-shit expression. “I know a lot about you, but your fiber intake is not on that list.” She stepped inside and dropped onto the futon he kept in there for late nights.

“I thought vampires have to be invited in.”

Right on cue, she flipped him off. Though she always poked him when he wanted to be left alone, he was usually better for her meddling. Of course, he’d never admit that to her. “I know you’re disappointed about Mychelle changing her mind about your guest artist series, but she’s a bitch and you don’t need her anyway.”

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “It was a big get.”

“I know.”

“It would have changed the game for my career.”

“I know.”

He got up from his stool and laid on the futon, resting his head on her lap. “I shouldn’t have slept with her.”

“I know.”

Never mix business and pleasure. His dad had pushed that message consistently since he’d forced David to spend a summer in high school working at a Rose Video branch. But how else was David supposed to meet people? He spent his days in the studio creating and his nights networking (and partying) with people in his industry. He didn’t have time to find a way to meet people outside the Toronto art scene. 

“Why don’t you get out of here for a bit and shake it off? Take a lunch break.”

He settled further into the couch. “I don’t take lunch breaks.”

She flicked the back of his ear. “Well, I’ve got shit to do and can’t babysit you until after work. I’ve got to process a couple of unit move-outs.”

David turned his head to glare up at her. “What kind of friend are you?”

“The kind of friend who gives you a significant discount on your studio rent?”

Reluctantly, he sat up. “Okay, fine. I suppose you can leave me to sort out my mess of a career while you go tend to your work.”

“I think that week-long Christmas market opened up today. Go buy something nutmeg flavored and cheer yourself up. I bet there’s cheese.”

David’s traitorous stomach growled. “I guess I could scope out the seasonal food selection and support small businesses.”

He ignored her smirk as he bundled up for the freezing December Toronto weather. At least it hadn’t snowed for a few days.

“Bring me back something good.”

“If I’m feeling generous.” They both knew he would.

He walked the few blocks to the Christmas market with his charcoal cashmere scarf tucked under his chin and tickling his earlobes. The market was bigger than he realized. During the warmer months, the square was a nice place to sip a coffee while people watching. Once in a while he caught a concert there or the summer farmer’s market for kettle corn. The square’s spaciousness during the summer had been replaced with a bustling market that felt cozy though cramped. He passed a covered stage where a group of elderly women sang _Deck the Halls_ and a tent densely packed with people sitting at white folding tables and chairs. Dozens of square white tents were lined up in rows leading to an ice skating rink and a giant decorated tree. It must look amazing at night.

Thank God the event organizers had far more than a modicum of common sense and grouped like vendors together. Putting all the food vendors in one row made it easier to strategize his dining options. The roasting chestnuts smelled divine.

David dodged people paying more attention to the booths than where they walked. A chocolatier? Definitely looping back to that. One booth was simply potatoes twisting up a stick nearly a meter tall. He must have died and gone to heaven. The booth up ahead and on his right caught his attention. A German brat and pretzel with mustard would make a damn fine lunch. He paused to read the menu of the German stand. 

“Free samples! Cranberry orange scones!” David turned toward the friendly voice.

David heartily supported free samples _and_ cranberry scones _and_ dessert before a meal. He passed through the line at the German booth to collect on the free sample offer. A smiley man gestured to a platter in front of him on the table, and an older couple reached down to pick up pieces of scone. They smiled as they chewed and the man smiled warmly back at them as they chatted. Lots of smiles all around. David wanted in on the scone smiles. The guy was cute. _Really_ cute. Sweet and a bit adorkable in his puffy blue coat and grey toque. 

The man looked up and caught David looking at him. “Hey! Do you like scones?” His eyes widened for a moment as he did a quick sweet up and down David’s body. The openly friendly smile shifted slightly. Flirty. A flirty man with free baked good samples? Oh hell yes.

“I like just about any sweetened form of carb.”

The man’s smile widened. “A discerning customer.”

David took a step toward him. “Am I a customer?” His mouth twisted to the side at the man’s grin.

“I think you’d fall under that classification if you choose to accept a sample.”

“Even if I don’t buy anything?” Another step closer.

“If you bought something, you’d be a _paying_ customer.”

“As opposed to a _sampling_ customer?” David was now close enough to see the man’s wide, kind eyes. Brown like the perfectly baked edges of the cinnamon rolls in the case. 

The couple shifted to the side and placed an order with a red-haired woman working at the booth. 

“Exactly!” The man picked the tray up from the table and held it out to David. He gestured to a specific piece skewered by a toothpick. “That’s a good piece.”

David studied the piece in question. Clearly a soft, middle piece. “What if I like crusty ends?”

“You strike me as the kind of person who’s more likely to eat from the middle of a brownie pan than the end.” His smirk deepened as the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled. 

David straightened his wool coat. “Brownies aren’t scones.”

“Same principle applies.”

They stared at each other, both smirking like fools, as heat spread through David’s belly. He grabbed the middle piece and popped it in his mouth without breaking eye contact. If he made a bit of a show about it, well, that was between him and the piece of scone. Patrick’s attention followed the piece of scone into David’s mouth, and he watched David chew as though he’d lost track of himself. His mouth slightly parted and looked almost like he’d forgotten to breathe. 

David chewed slowly, thoughtfully. He considered doing the medically advised thirty-two chews but gave up near twenty. “Delicious.”

The man’s shoulders dropped, and he let out a huff of air. Visible in the cold air for a moment before dissipating. “I’m glad the scone can be classified as a sweet carb you enjoy.”

David definitely picked up a vibe from this guy and he wanted to see where it took him. Hopefully to a free scone and maybe a phone number. “Mm, me too.” He took a moment to collect himself by perusing the cases of pastries lined up on the table because the weight of those owlish eyes had David squirming. “You know what would make them even better?”

The man moved a gloved hand in front of his mouth and laughed. “No, but I have a feeling you’ll tell me.”

David straightened his shoulders and leveled his haughtiest look. “Cardamom glaze.”

The hand in front of the man’s mouth shifted to grasp his chin as he looked in the middle distance. “Huh.”

Suddenly self-conscious, David looked at a case full of buns and tarts. He loved cardamom and remembered having incredible orange-cranberry scones with a cardamom glaze at a coffee shop in Napa Valley a few years back. The combination was delicious.

“You know, that’s a good idea.”

“I know.”

The man laughed. A more pronounced sound than the time before and David liked it. A lot. He caught the woman in the booth eyeing the man with slightly widened eyes before turning back to hand a pastry bag to the couple. Shit, maybe they were a couple? 

Vibe or not, that was a delicious scone and David wanted to taste more of what this guy was selling. “Do you have anything with cardamom?”

The guy shook his head. “Got a thing for cardamom, huh?” He said it in the kind of tone David would expect to hear something like _got a praise kink, huh?_

“It’s not quite a kink, but it’s more than a _thing_ , I’d say. One of my favorite flavors.”

Scone guy’s—because he’d already decided he needed some sort of mental nickname for this cutie—pupils widened for a moment, and David licked his lips. “What kinds of rolls are these?”

With an obvious throat clear, Scone Guy gestured to one case of goodies. “Chocolate puff pastry rolls, apple walnut rolls, cinnamon rolls, and lemon vanilla rolls.”

David whistled. “Quite a spread you’ve got here.”

“I take my pastry selections very seriously…” he trailed off expectantly.

“David.” He slid his lips to one side of his mouth and felt his dimples deepen. 

“Patrick. It’s nice to meet you.” Patrick seemed quick to smile, and David had to look away from the sheer force of it. Either this guy was a smooth salesperson or a damn good flirt. “Curious about anything else? I could talk pastries all day.”

The prospect of that was surprisingly tempting. Pastries and attractive people were two of his favorite things. “I think I could eat pastries all day. What are these?” And that’s how David found himself listening attentively to Patrick describe, in detail, every single pastry at his booth while the woman working with him handled the steady stream of customers on her own. He probably should’ve felt bad, but it was hard to care about anything when Patrick managed to make pastries sound sexy and fun.

“What’s your favorite?” David stood at the far end of the table and looked over the cases as he mentally finalized his order. At Patrick’s prolonged silence, he looked up at him.

Patrick bashfully rubbed the back of his neck. “Is it weird that I don’t know?”

“Yes,” David said before he could stop himself. Luckily, Patrick laughed instead of acting offended.

“Once I started baking more regularly, eating them wasn’t as enjoyable.” He shrugged like it was normal.

David had a hundred questions. What did Patrick do when he wasn’t baking? The way Patrick said it made it sound like the whole baking thing might be new. What pastries were his favorite to make? Which ones did he enjoy eating before? Was he single and did he like men? But those topics were none of his business. He was merely a sampling customer, soon to be a paying customer, on a lunch break. 

“I suppose that makes sense. Lucky for you my pastry-related decision-making skills are excellent, so I’ll let you off the hook for not having advice.”

“Decisiveness is a good trait.” Patrick’s voice dropped a bit as he spoke, then he bit his bottom lip. Definitely a good flirt.

“I agree,” David replied, holding Patrick’s gaze a few beats beyond the realm of friendly and into something with intent. “I know what I like.” At the slow curve of Patrick’s smile, David rattled off the pastries he wanted to try. The scone really had been good, and he hoped that extended to Patrick’s other goodies. He and Stevie could have an afternoon pastry sampling.

Patrick worked efficiently as he loaded up a box. David glanced over at the woman and found her shaking her head softly. David knew that head shake intimately because he saw Stevie do the same thing all too often. Maybe they were siblings. They both had the same wholesome vibe about them.

As Patrick passed David’s debit card back to him, he jerked his head toward the German stand. “If you like sausage, their brats are delicious.” He didn’t immediately let go of David’s card when David grabbed it. 

“I am quite fond of sausage. A good brat can be very satisfying.” David felt ridiculous. Sounded ridiculous. Was he seriously a grown man attempting to flirt with sausage innuendos? He must have left his dignity back in his studio. But the twitch in Patrick’s mouth broke David’s barely contained self-control and he laughed. He didn’t think silly laughter and flirting could blend so well together, but there it was. “I also really like German pretzels, though I did just buy an absolute shit ton of pastries.”

Patrick waved a dismissive hand. “That’s savory, these are sweet. Completely different foods.”

David felt the soft bits of his face do the most horrifying thing: shift into a real smile. Not the half smiles or twisted kinda smiles or bit-down almost smiles he’d taught himself years ago, but a full, open smile. Patrick startled slightly at it, but before David could get in his head about it and remember that time Sebastien scolded him for showing his crooked lower teeth, Patrick’s returned a mega-watter of his own. “You know, you are absolutely correct.”

“You pride yourself on being decisive, and I pride myself on being right.”

And being fucking adorable. “Thank you for the tour of your offerings.” David felt his cheeks warm a bit, in spite of the freezing air. “I suppose I should get back to work.” He jerked a thumb behind him, which probably wasn’t the direction of his studio.

“Enjoy the pretzel, David. And give the brat a try. I think you’ll like it.” Patrick winked? At? Him? Mostly a wink, though his other eye sort of blinked too. It kind of reminded him of Alexis, actually.

“Thanks, Patrick. It was, um, nice to meet you.” He held up the pastry box and nodded at the woman watching him like a hawk. Then he awkwardly walked a couple meters away and… got in a line directly in Patrick’s line of sight. They were close enough to keep talking. He spared a quick glance and noticed there were no customers to pull Patrick’s attention. He felt Patrick’s gaze on him. It was more awkward than saying goodbye to someone and realizing you’re both walking in the same direction. 

After a few more awkward glances and even more awkward small smiles, he caught Patrick’s cheeks turning beet red as the woman said something to him. She punched him in the arm and glanced at David. Before he could make any progress eavesdropping, it was his turn to order. Yes, he blushed when ordering a brat. And, yes, he blushed harder when he caught Patrick watching him doctor it up with toppings. He saluted Patrick with the brat and turned to walk back to the gallery with as much of his dignity intact as possible. 


	2. Day 2

_**Day 2 of the Christmas market** _

David tried, and failed, to convince himself that the amazing bratwurst and pretzel was what convinced him to go back to the Christmas market for lunch two days in a row. That the delicious stone ground mustard was what pulled him through the crowds like a magnet. But when Stevie had seen him bundling up again, she’d given him a knowing look and placed her pastry order. 

The scent of chestnuts, towering stacks of potato towers. Almost there. He slowed his pace when he spotted the large German flag mounted at the top of the tent next to Patrick’s. He’d operated entirely on the need to see Patrick’s smiling face and hear his teasing words again, but what if that was Patrick’s MO with all customers? And David would look like a creeper returning two days in a row? He should’ve bought something from a gift vendor to make it look like he was out holiday shopping.

The aroma of freshly baked pretzels hit his nose and his brain buffered for a moment. He had to get another one of those. But first, backstory for why he was at the Christmas market for a second day. He could say his coworkers loved the pastries and they sent David back while he was coming back from a meeting. Yeah, that could work. He was passing through and doing his colleagues a favor. Super breezy explanation. Except he worked alone in a storage unit turned into a studio that his best friend let him rent out and renovate. So, “coworkers” meant Stevie and “meeting” meant second morning coffee run? Not _exactly_ a lie.

Squaring his shoulders and pulling his scarf closer to his ears, he casually strode over to Patrick’s tent. He was pleased to see a small line. His pastries were good, really good. David took the opportunity to study the booth a little more. For all the time he’d loitered at it yesterday, he’d been too focused on the sugar and the cute guy to take in the full aesthetic. Of the food booths he’d passed so far, Patrick’s was pretty understated. He didn’t have fancy bakery cases or cake stands to place his goods at varying heights. Nor any seasonal props or decor to make his booth match the festive aesthetic of the festival. Then again, with a smile like that, who needed proper merchandising? 

A banner hanging at the back of the tent caught his eye. It hadn’t been there yesterday, or he’d completely missed it because his attention hadn’t strayed beyond Patrick. An overused script font spelled _Sugar Daddy: sweets and treats_.

No. No way. Sugar Daddy? David bit his bottom lip hard enough to leave a mark to stop himself from laughing. He _had_ to know the story behind the name. Had. To.

Patrick moved to help the man in front of David. Patrick looked over the guy’s shoulder and made eye contact with David. The way his eyes widened and his polite, generic customer service smile morphed into something more genuine, erased any hesitation David felt about visiting. He tucked his smile between his teeth and impatiently waited his turn to bask in Patrick’s attention. The woman spotted David and winked, then called to help the person behind David. Okay, so they’d definitely talked about him.

“David! Hey, you came back.” Patrick didn’t seem embarrassed at all by his eager tone, and hell if that wasn’t the most endearing thing David had ever heard.

“I came back for the German food, but figured I might as well check in to see what you had today.”

Patrick’s eyes sparkled. “Told you the brat was good.”

“You were… not wrong,” David conceded.

“Told you I’m right.”

“Do you get off on telling people you told them so?” 

Patrick’s shrug was casual, unaffected. “I get off on lots of things, David.” He let the words sit in the air until they had David squirming. 

It pained him not to meet the quip with a flirty retort, but there were too many people around for him to one-up Patrick. This time. “Except your own pastries, or so I’m told.”

“I never said I didn’t enjoy them, just that I don’t have a favorite.”

“Mm. Technicality.” 

Patrick crossed his arms over his chest and leaned a hip against the table. “Did you have a favorite from yesterday’s batch?”

Surely he should be horrified that Patrick assumed he’d tried them all. He had, of course, but he didn’t need anyone other than Stevie knowing that. “The molasses gingerbread. Wait, no, the chocolate puff pastry rolls.” He twisted his lips as he thought. “Actually, apple walnut roll.”

“Final answer?” Patrick said on a laugh.

“Final answer.” David nodded.

Patrick reached under the table and pulled out a small pastry bag. “Might have a new favorite for you.”

David accepted the white paper bag, his fingertips brushed Patrick’s—too bad he couldn’t feel anything through the gloves—and unfolded the top to reveal a scone similar to the one he’d sampled yesterday, but with a sheen over it. He lifted the bag to his face and sniffed. Cardamom. He looked up at Patrick and smiled as he ignored the disgusting butterflies flapping their nasty little wings in his stomach. “You tried it?”

A sweet blush spread over Patrick’s cheeks. “It was a good idea.”

“A very good idea.” The petite woman working with Patrick said as she reached across Patrick to grab a cinnamon roll from the case in front of him. “They taste fabulous.”

“Thanks for this.” It was David’s turn to blush at Patrick’s sweet smile. The warmth was a welcome sensation to his nearly frostbitten cheeks. “Cardamom is underused in pastries in our corner of the world.”

“If you have other pastry ideas, we’re all ears. This guy needs to mix things up a little bit.” She turned to give Patrick a weighted look. “Take risks once in a while.”

Patrick shot her a warning look David knew he’d given Stevie a thousand times.

“I like to consider myself an expert pastry consumer, and as such, I have endless opinions about them.” His attempt to break the tension worked because the woman laughed and finished helping her customer as Patrick returned his attention to David.

“Something tells me you have endless opinions about lots of things.”

“Oh, I do.” He took another whiff of the scone before folding the bag closed. “I think the best pastry I ever had was a cardamom roll at a little bakery in Bend, Oregon. They had cardamom lattes too. They were so delicious.” He’d considered traveling back to Oregon _just_ for those rolls, but as much as he enjoyed excess, that seemed a bit too far. 

“Like a cinnamon roll?” Patrick’s attention sharpened like he was mentally rifling through a stack of recipe cards to see if he’d ever made something like it. If that was Patrick’s business look, David would throw out pastry ideas all day. He couldn’t help but wonder if Patrick looked that serious when focusing on other things. Or people.

“Sort of? Cinnamon roll in shape, but it didn’t have all the frosting on it. Not as dense either.”

“Huh.” Patrick stared off into the middle distance.

David glanced behind him and noticed a growing line. “I haven’t figured out what I want to order yet, so if you want to help them? I’ll hang here and ponder my choices.”

Patrick’s eyes seemed to refocus, and he looked at David. “You sure?”

He absolutely wasn’t ready to leave yet. Even in the subzero temperatures. “Yup. Big decisions to make. Can’t rush pastry selection.” He ignored the arched eyebrow the redhead sent him. At least she smiled along with it. 

David noticed a few new options in the case, like scones with light brown chunks in them. Maybe cinnamon chips? Yum. He listened closely to Patrick and the redhead as they answered customer questions. By the time the line had died down and Patrick returned to him, David had narrowed down his list, but he still had questions. Were they an excuse to talk to Patrick? Yes. Was he ashamed? No.

“How’s the decision making going?”

“It’s very difficult, Patrick.” David molded his expression into something serious.

“I thought decisiveness is one of your top skills.” One side of Patrick’s mouth quirked up.

“I have many top skills,” David said in a weighted tone. He achieved his desired effect as Patrick’s mouth dropped open slightly. “A lot rides on my decision-making. This sugar will get me through a difficult afternoon of work and hopefully keep my friend from harassing me while I do said work.”

“It sounds challenging. Did you share any of yesterday’s goodies with your friend?”

“Begrudgingly, yes. At times, against my will.” He was still pissed at Stevie for stealing the rest of his half of the chocolate roll after he’d taken a bite.   
“I always sneak pastries too. This guy has serious skills in the kitchen,” the woman said as she stood next to Patrick. 

“I hear he’s the Sugar Daddy,” David said to her in the most even tone he could manage. For a moment, David thought he’d gone to far because she stared at him with wide eyes, but then, thankfully, she bent at the waist and laughed. And laughed. And laughed a little more. The blush creeping up Patrick’s face was glorious.

“Told you the name was ridiculous.” She patted Patrick’s shoulder.

“What! It’s not my fault the nickname stuck.”

“But did you have to name your business after your college nickname?”

Patrick turned to her and crossed his arms over his chest. David wished he had some popcorn for the show. “No, but it’s a memorable name.”

The redhead snorted. “Probably not for the right reasons.”

“I feel like now I have to know why Sugar Daddy was your college nickname.” David couldn’t let the opportunity pass. Thank God there weren’t any customers waiting at that moment.

Patrick shook his head and looked resigned. “I baked a lot in college and had a pet beta fish named Saccharine. So, Sugar Daddy.” He gestured as though it was the most normal thing in the world. 

David blinked at him. He didn’t even know where to begin.

“I know,” Rachel said, shooting David a conspiratorial look. “This bozo has a lot of good traits, but naming businesses isn’t one of them. I’m Rachel, by the way. His partner.” She held out a hand.

“Business partner,” Patrick rushed to add.

David bit back a smile at Rachel’s eye roll. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Patrick looked between them rapidly like he expected an alien to pop out of one of their heads or something. Definitely a story there.

He decided to take it easy on Patrick and get back to the task at hand. “My friend liked the chocolate roll a lot and the molasses gingerbread, so I should probably get one of those.”

Patrick grimaced. “We’re all out of the molasses gingerbread. Sorry.”

David waved a hand dismissively. “She’s been an asshole all day interrupting my work. Serves her right.” If he didn’t have a cranberry orange scone with cardamom glaze waiting for him, he’d be more disappointed. No way he would share that one with Stevie.

Patrick snorted, and walked David through some of the new offerings as Rachel helped the customers who walked up.

“So, your friend has been interrupting your work.”

“Mm?” David licked his lips as he looked down at the box of goodies while Patrick rang him up.

“What was she interrupting?”

David blinked a couple of times while his brain worked to catch up. Help him with? Oh! He bit the corner of his mouth to stop his smile from getting too big. “Are you asking me what kind of work I do?”

Huffing out a laugh, Patrick accepted David’s debit card. “In the most awkward way possible? Yes.”

“I’m an artist. I have a studio a few blocks away.” 

Patrick’s easy smile left David weak in the knees. “Wow. That’s amazing. What kind of art?”

“Contemporary painting, mostly.” Usually he’d rattle off a well-practiced elevator speech at that question. One all about the ideas he wrestled with and his influences and prestigious places his art had been shown, but he didn’t feel the urge to impress Patrick with that. For the first time in a long time, possibly ever, he wanted someone to be impressed with him for who he was, not what he did. Plus, he was still salty as hell over Mychelle rescinding her offer of placing him as a guest artist in her gallery and wasn’t feeling very boastful at the moment.

“That’s amazing, David.” 

He looked up to find a soft smile on Patrick’s face with lips turned down. David’s shoulders relaxed. Patrick didn’t seem put off or overly impressed or eager to get something from David. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “I should probably grab a brat and head back to work. I’ve got a commission to finish.” 

David didn’t want to leave, but loitering at Patrick’s business in the freezing cold didn’t seem like a good idea. For the first time in a while, he itched to get back to creating. Lately it had been more routine and contracts than inspiration driving his creations, but yesterday afternoon he’d itched to paint like he had years ago. Purely coincidence that the urge hit after his visit to the Christmas market. Probably a side effect of good food. And the tingling in his fingers to grab a paintbrush now had nothing to do with the honey-whiskey eyes staring sweetly at him and the flirty smile that sent embers through David’s body. Nope. No connection there. 

“Thanks for this.” He held up the bag with the scone. “I can’t wait to try it.”

Patrick beamed at him. “You’ll let me know what you think?”

“You can count on it.” A not so subtle invite to come back tomorrow? Perfect. “I warned you, I’m very opinionated.” 

“I look forward to it.”

They smiled at each other as David tried to tell his legs to move his body away. They weren’t. Stubborn shits.

“Hey Patrick, why don’t you grab us lunch? There’s a lull right now and I’m starving.” Rachel passed Patrick some cash. “I’ve been craving one of those brats since you two talked about them yesterday.” Her face remained faux neutral in the same way he’d seen on Stevie’s face endless times. He liked Rachel a lot.

“Sure, Rach. I could go for a sausage.”

David deserved a medal for holding back a snort. Patrick didn’t look at David as he moved to get out of the tent, but David caught a small smile on his face.

Rachel’s eyes twinkled as she looked at David. He waited for her to wink at him or mouth _you’re welcome_ , but it never came. Clearly she had more restraint than Stevie would. David would have mouthed _thank you_ at her, but David had no idea if Patrick was single or liked men or was interested in him beyond some flirting to pass what had to be long days slinging pastries. Sure, there were lots of clues, but David had worked in customer service long enough to know that sometimes flirting could get you places. Instead, he smiled at Rachel and walked to the German tent to get in line. Patrick joined him a moment later. 

“Hi.” Patrick stood shoulder-to-shoulder with David, facing the tent’s counter. 

David bit his lower lip and turned to look at Patrick. “Hi.” He smelled good. Woodsy. Probably some drugstore aftershave, but it worked on him. He stood a couple inches shorter than David realized, but he liked it. 

“What are you thinking?”

 _That I want to ask you on a date. That I want to see what your lips feel like against mine. That I want to see if my arms fit perfectly over your shoulders as I suspect they will._ “I could go for a sausage.” God, he felt like his pre-pubescent self fighting back laughter. “Probably a pretzel again too because that mustard was delicious. What about you?”

“Brat, for sure. Have you wandered around the market much yet?”

David fought for an even tone that wouldn’t clue Patrick in to David’s beelining to his tent today. “A bit? Yesterday I sort of went straight to the food booths. The pretzels caught my eye and then someone hollered about free scone samples,” his voice went a bit higher at the end. He shrugged. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he saw Patrick’s smile grow. Okay, so maybe didn’t land the even tone. 

“And then I lured you to my stall with the siren call of sugar.”

Or the siren call of a cute guy with a great smile. “Mm. Something like that.”

“Well, I’m glad the sugar, or _something_ , brought you over.” Patrick stood close enough so their shoulders touched, and David could damn near feel the heat of Patrick’s shoulder through his several layers.

David bit his lips between his teeth as he clutched the box of pastries closer to his chest. “Me too.” They stepped forward as a few people moved to wait for their orders. 

“Do you have a bakery or something?” 

“Not yet, but I’m hoping to. We’re currently borrowing a friend’s commercial kitchen for the week.” Patrick glanced up at him and looked a little shy. Adorable. People weren’t shy around him. Bold, pushy, demanding, assertive? Sure. “It’s sort of a side hustle I hope to make something more permanent.”

David empathized with someone chasing their dreams. “You’re really good at it.”

Patrick looked up at him with the most open, endearing smile and it took David’s breath away. “Thank you.” The teasing smirk that was becoming almost familiar took over his face. “That means a lot coming from someone so opinionated.”

David lifted his chin. “It should. I take pastries very seriously and I don’t throw out undeserved compliments.”

“Well I hope the cardamom icing on that scone exceeds your expectations.”

“Patrick, I hope so too. I really do.” He winked at him then stepped up to place his sausage order.


	3. Day 3

_**Day 3 of the Christmas market** _

“Your boyfriend had better have some of that molasses gingerbread today.” Stevie said without looking up from her laptop as she sat cross-legged on his futon.

“Who said I’m going to the market? I’ve got work to do. This commission is due next week.”

She looked up at him. “Tell that to your face.”

“What’s wrong with my face?” He waved his hands around.

“You’ve been _happy_ the last two days when you’ve come back from the market. You were so focused on painting yesterday evening you didn’t even notice when I asked if you wanted popcorn.”

“I missed a popcorn opportunity?!” He knew he’d been focused on his work, but not _that_ focused. 

“Go get us sugar. Mrs. Potts said she’s coming by later to get something from her unit and I’m going to need a treat after she talks my ear off for an hour.”

“I’ll go get us sugar.” They both knew he was going to go anyway, but it was nice to save a bit of dignity. He had to tell Patrick how delicious the scone was with the cardamom glaze added. It would be rude not to.

Fifteen minutes later, he approached Patrick’s tent with a smile on his face. The customer at the tent walked away as David walked up to the table.

“Hello, David.” Patrick greeted him with a wide grin.

“Hi, Patrick. How are you?”

“On pins and needles for your review.” Patrick shoved his hands in the pockets of his puffy coat.

David laughed. “I’m good, David, thanks. How are you? Oh, Patrick, I’m doing swell, thank you.”

“Swell, huh?”

“Quite swell, actually. You know, this guy I met made a scone with a cardamom glaze. I love cardamom so much.” He sighed. “Though, I’m disappointed.”

Patrick’s face dropped and his shoulders drooped like a sad puppy dog. So fucking cute. “Disappointed?”

David nodded solemnly. “Exceedingly disappointed that I only had one to enjoy.”

Patrick looked down and smiled. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“Thanks for making it.” He noticed Patrick was on his own. “No Rachel today?”

It could have been the cold, but David would swear Patrick’s skin flushed. “She’s, uh, grabbing lunch. She’ll be back any minute.” He didn’t quite meet David’s eyes. 

David nodded. “So, what do we have today?”

“Mollasses gingerbread.”

“Thank, God. Stevie would kill me if I didn’t come back with that again.” His turn to not quite meet Patrick’s eyes. 

“Is Stevie your… “

Patrick had zero game when it came to fishing for information, and David couldn’t get enough. “The friend I mentioned. I rent studio space from her so she pillages my snack stockpile.” 

“Hey, David. Good to see you.” Rachel couldn’t look less surprised to see him. He should probably be embarrassed by that, but he couldn’t muster it. 

“Hi, Rachel. Have a good lunch?”

She walked around to the tent’s entrance and sat a soda on the table. “Very good. There’s a place with amazing tacos a couple rows over.” She turned to face Patrick. “Your turn to take a lunch break,” Rachel said pointedly.

Patrick quickly glanced at David. “Yeah. Okay.” 

David tried to hold back his frown. He was hoping to chat with Patrick for a while like he had the last two days, but he wasn’t about to keep a man from his lunch. Even for a silly Christmas market crush.

Rachel moved to the far end of the table to help a customer who had walked up.

Patrick looked up at David with those big, doe eyes. “Want to grab lunch? If you haven’t eaten yet.”

Oh. Ohh. David didn’t try to school his smile. “Yes. I’d like that.”

Patrick’s smile damn near vibrated. “Great.” 

David waited for Patrick to come around to the front of the tent. “Have anything in mind?” 

“How about we wander and see what tickles our fancy.” 

David knew what would tickle his fancy but that involved a private space and a bed and a bottle of lube. “Sounds good.” 

They walked in silence for a minute or two. David broke it. “Is this your first time selling at the market?”

“Yeah. I started the business in the spring. I had a couple booths at summer festivals, which is how I landed this slot. It’s surprisingly hard to get in this one. Lots of food vendors competing for spaces. You might be surprised to learn that there is a plethora of bakers and pastry chefs in the city.”

“Color me shocked to learn pastries are popular at the holidays.” David idly wondered if he’d encountered Patrick over the summer at one of the festivals, but if he had, he’d have noticed Patrick for sure. “Good thing you got selected.” He glanced at Patrick and found him smiling. “For your business and stuff.”

“Business and stuff. Yep.”

David bit his lips together and looked at the booths they passed. “Do you want to open a retail bakery or are you thinking of sticking to catering and special events?”

“For a long time I wanted a retail space, but I’m not sure I’d be able to afford it. A commercial kitchen would be more manageable, but it’s harder to build clientele without the retail end. I guess I could supply coffee shops and cafes though.” He sighed. “I don’t know.”

“The market is sort of a test run of the retail side, right? Do you enjoy dealing with the unwashed masses or do you want to stick to the baking?”

Patrick knocked his shoulder into David’s. “Some of the unwashed masses aren’t so bad.”

“Some masses are quite well washed, thank you,” he said in a haughty tone.

Patrick chuckled. “I don’t mind the retail side, but I’m itching to get back in the kitchen after I’m here for a few hours. It’s hard to say though because I’m on vacation from my day job this week so I can do this. It doesn’t feel like a solid test, you know?”

“That makes sense. Are you missing your day job at all?”

“Not at all. I mean, it’s a fine enough job, but it’s more about paying the bills than making me happy.”

David supposed he could understand that. Money wasn’t really an issue for him, but he could imagine that if he needed to survive off of his gallery art earnings, he’d probably feel differently about it. “What’s your day job?”

“Corporate finance.”

David gaped at Patrick. “You want to leave corporate finance to be a full-time baker?”

“Yeah?” Patrick’s voice raised at the end. “Is that weird?”

David shook his head. “Surprising, yes. Weird, no. I think creative pursuits are more fulfilling, but I’m biased.”

Patrick grinned at him. “I suppose as an artist you could understand.”

“Delicious baked goods are certainly art, in my professional opinion.”

“And in your professional opinion, am I an artist?”

David squared his shoulders and tried to look serious. “On a scale of finger painting to Michelangelo? With finger painting being my baking skills and Michelangelo being Adriano Zumbo?”

Patrick’s hearty laughter chased the cold tickling at David’s ears. He wanted to wrap himself in the sound like a weighted blanket. “Adriano Zumbo is your Michelangelo of baking?” He didn’t sound incredulous, but charmed.

“Have you seen _Zumbo’s Just Desserts?_ He’s a magician.”

“Rachel made me watch a couple episodes when she wanted me to make her something fancy for her birthday last year.”

“You’re a Thomas Kinkade of baking. Reliable and pleasant.” David pressed his tongue as hard as he could to the roof of his mouth to keep a straight face. 

“Wow. _Wow_. Thomas Kinkade? I’m the equivalent of hotel art? The visual form of elevator muzak? Wow.”

“In my professional opinion, yes.” 

Patrick knocked his shoulder into David’s again. “So if I make you a cardamom roll and put it in a chocolate dome covered in mirror glaze, I’d be a Zumbo Michelangelo?”

“That’s _exactly_ what I’m saying. I’m pleased you understand.”

“Unbelievable.” Patrick’s words held no bite. He practically bounced with glee. The guy liked to get teased. David could get on board with that.

“Ooh pizza. I think I’m going to stop here.”

“Sounds good.” Patrick moved into the line. 

“You don’t want to keep looking around?” 

“Nah, I’m happy here.”

Oh. Okay. David gnawed on his bottom lip. “What are your opinions about pineapple on pizza?”

“It’s not my favorite, but I’m not going to yuck anyone’s yum.”

David blinked. “How… open-minded of you.” Now all he could think about Patrick’s possible yums and whether their yums overlapped. 

Once they had their mini pizzas, Patrick led them to tables under a heated tent. David pulled off his scarf and gloves. “I wasn’t expecting it to be heated.”

Patrick took off his gloves and toque, and used his thick fingers to fluff his short curls. _Curls_. Jesus. He unzipped his puffy jacket and peeled it off to reveal broad shoulders stretching the confines of a sky blue sweater. Patrick was hiding quite the tight torso under that big jacket. 

Well, if jackets were coming off, it would be rude for David not to join. He had one of his warmest, and snuggest, cashmere sweaters on. He carefully pulled his arms from his jacket and glanced up to find Patrick watching him with a slice of pizza halfway between the table and his mouth. “Mm. Better.” Maybe he used one of his flirtiest smirks. And maybe Patrick’s breath hitched. Maybe he wanted to toss the pizza to the side and grab the front of Patrick’s poly blend sweater and pull him in for a kiss. Maybe. 

Patrick seemed to catch himself and continued lifting the pizza slice to his mouth. “This is good,” he said after a bite. “It reminds me of these Italian sandwiches I love. Have you ever been to Gino’s?”

David shook his head as he chewed. Patrick was right, it was good. The correct ratio of red sauce to cheese on a thin crust. 

“They’re delicious. They have a classic all meat sub that’s-“ And Patrick actually chef-kissed his fingers. Did he have any idea how fucking adorable he was?

“Let me guess, it has sausage?”

“You know, it does,” Patrick flashed a cheeky grin as he took another bite. 

“Shocking. I’m shocked.”

“Is that your shocked face, David.”

“Mmhmm. Can’t you tell?”

“It looks a lot like your charmed face.”

David sputtered around a drink from the water bottle he’d bought. “I have a charmed face?”

Patrick nodded seriously. David shifted in his seat. Well, things were certainly taking a turn, and he wasn’t mad about it. “Clearly you’ve never seen your face when you look at a bunch of pastries. Completely charmed. Like each pastry has asked you to prom.”

David dropped his head between his shoulders and did his best to bite down his laugh, but he failed. Hard. “You know, a date with a bunch of pastries would have been better than my actual prom.”

“I’m sensing a story there.”

Aaaaand that’s when he’d lose Patrick. Through the tragic stories of his youth or by showing how pretentious his life could be or by not sharing and looking like an asshole. Time to pick his poison. A voice lurking in the darkness of his mind suggested he take a risk and be open. 

“I skipped junior prom in favor of taking my asymmetrical haircut to a rave where I danced all night and took E. The highlight of senior prom was holding my best friend’s hair back while she puked into a toilet all night because she thought it would be a good idea to drink a flask full of Everclear after fasting for three days so her dress looked good. Prom at a fancy boarding school was something else.”

Patrick blinked at him and slowly chewed. He swallowed and David’s attention reluctantly left his Adam’s apple. “I have questions.”

“Naturally.” David clasped his hands together on his lap to stop from fidgeting at what was sure to turn into a conversation fit for an after-school special about substance abuse.

“First, do you have photos of you with the asymmetrical haircut? Second, did you wear candy necklaces to the rave? Third, are corsages something you wear to a rave? Because I can’t picture it.”

David gaped at him as his brain rebooted. 

“You’re a good person, David. I doubt most teenagers would sacrifice their idealized prom experience to care for a friend like that. I know most of my friends would have left her in the bathroom. Teenagers can be so selfish.”

That took a wholly unexpected turn. “Um, thank you.” He bit the inside of his cheek as he quelled the emotions rocking through him. A bottle of wine and some long reflection loomed in his softly forming evening plans. “No to the photos, yes to the candy necklaces because you need sugar to keep energy up for all that dancing, and no to the corsages until you count the candy necklaces since I sometimes wore them around my wrist.”

Patrick looked at him with fondness and a teasing smile. “I’m really disappointed about there being no photos. I guess I’ll have to imagine it.” The little shit closed his eyes and slowly deepened his grin. “Wow. That’s something else.”

David laughed. “You’re a fucking troll.”

Patrick’s eyes flew open and he held up his hands. “Hey, you control the narrative here. You either let me imagine it or get me photos.”

With an exasperated shake of his head, David took another bite of his pizza. The rest of the lunch was… _easy_. He couldn’t sense any hesitation from Patrick. If anything, Patrick seemed increasingly relaxed and interested like the fucking Canadian unicorn he was. 

It was the best non-date David had ever had. Probably better than most of—maybe all—of his actual dates. 

“As much as I don’t want this to end, I have to get back before Rachel kills me.”

David nodded. “I should probably get back too, but I can’t leave without buying some prom dates.” He grimaced. “And now I sound like I’m soliciting the services of sex workers instead of buying pastries. Thank you for forcing that visual into my brain.”

“I’m pleased I could give you such a gift.” He winked as he gathered their trash.

Patrick was the literal worst and he couldn’t wait to see him again tomorrow.


	4. Day 4

_**Day 4 of the Christmas market** _

David practically skipped over to Patrick’s with his tote bag hiked high on his shoulder. He hoped Patrick liked the surprise. He _really_ hoped he had the guts to show Patrick the surprise. If his nerves abandoned him, the tote bag would help him keep it secret.

“David! Hey.” At Patrick’s enthusiastic welcome, he knew the risk had been the right call. 

“Hi, Patrick. How are you?”

“Better now.” David damn near whimpered. Being around someone that open with their innocent flirting was… unprecedented. Most people who flirted with David gave up if they didn’t immediately get what they wanted. Hell, David usually gave up too. “I, um, was just thinking about grabbing lunch when Rachel is back. Any chance you’re hungry?”

If David’s smile slipped out before he could temper it, well, whatever. “I was hoping you’d say that.” His cheeks heated as Patrick practically buzzed with happiness. “I have a surprise.” He slid the tote bag off his shoulder.

“Aww, David, did you bring me photos and candy necklaces?”

“Okay, that’s enough out of you about the candy necklaces. You’ve officially lost lunch privileges.” He opened the tote enough to let the delicious aroma out. “I guess this means I get _both_ classic all meat subs from Gino’s.”

“You didn’t.” Patrick looked between David and the bag with eyes as wide as a kid who got a bike and a pony and all of the video game consoles on Christmas morning. 

“I did. You said they were good and I was intrigued.” He shrugged a shoulder, feeling self-conscious about it. Was it too much? It was too much. He was too much.

David stood off to the side so Patrick could help a customer who walked up. Usually polite and friendly, Patrick seemed to rush the customer a bit. Rachel wasn’t even back from her lunch yet so they couldn’t leave, but David felt, hoped, wished, Patrick rushed the customer so he could get back to their conversation. 

Two more customers walked up. David almost volunteered to join Patrick in the tent and help. He knew the stock well enough by that point, but that would _definitely_ be too much. Right? Right.

A million years later, Rachel finally returned. “Good to see you, David. Ooh, your bag smells good. What’s in it?”

“Hey Rachel. Um, sandwiches. Busy today?”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. “Yeah, I think it’s picking up as we get closer to Christmas. We might have to increase how much we bake each day.”

“It sounds like you two are crushing it.”

“Patrick is definitely crushing it.” She winked, and David flushed. “He’s a great baker.”

David’s attention wandered to the man in question who handed cash back to a customer with a deep pink on his cheeks. “He sure is.” Patrick looked up and caught David’s eyes, smiling.

“Okay, Rach. Lunch time. Back in a while.”

“Have a good lunch you two.” 

Okay, so either she’d assumed they were doing lunch again, or Patrick had told her he’d planned to invite him. He _should_ be embarrassed that he’d become so predictable after a few days and all moon-eyed over a cute baker, but he kind of appreciated her lack of shame. Just like Stevie.

Patrick reached under the table and retrieved a pastry bag. “Dessert.”

They quickly walked back to the heated tent and settled in at a table with winter wear off and sandwiches on the table in the blink of an eye. 

Patrick stared down at the wrapped sandwich in front of him, looking like a man who hadn’t eaten in days.

“Sorry that it’s probably cold. With the Uber Eats delivery to my gallery and the walk over here and the customers and—“

Patrick placed a hand on his forearm. “Hey, don’t be sorry. I don’t care that it’s cold. It’s going to be delicious.”

David offered a small smile. “Okay.” 

Patrick unwrapped his sandwich. “I actually tried to have one delivered to the kitchen last night while I was baking for today, but they were already closed. I spent all yesterday afternoon thinking about them and this morning too.” He let out a breath. “And here you are. My knight in monochrome bringing me the sandwich haunting my dreams.”

“Least I could do after all the delicious baked goods you’ve supplied me with the past few days.”

“I bring the sweet, you bring the savory.”

David snorted. “You have no idea how true that is.” Replace savory with salty and that was David’s brand in one word. Patrick seemed to let that one go as he unwrapped the sandwich, and David was grateful for the reprieve. 

The moan Patrick let out at the first bite did _not_ belong in the middle of a Christmas market, or, really, anywhere in public. If food could elicit that kind of throaty pleased sound, what could David get from him in other ways? That prospect would certainly keep him up tonight.

“God, this hits the spot. Thank you.”

David had to try the magical sandwich that seemed three bites away from making Patrick come in his jeans. It didn’t look like anything special. Italian sub with meat, cheese and some veg sticking out the sites. He wrapped a napkin around half to catch any droppings and took a bite. And oh. Oh. Shit. It was good. Sinfully soft bread, high quality meets that tasted far more homemade than Subway cardboard. The cheese. Fuck, the cheese. 

“I’m glad you get the hype,” Patrick said with laughter in his voice. 

David came back to reality and remembered where he was. He opened his eyes and straightened in his chair. Shit. Had he moaned too? The blush on Patrick’s cheeks said he may have. “Um, yes. I definitely get the hype. This is really fucking good.”

They grinned at each other over their sandwiches. They couldn’t manage many words because both kept shoveling food in their mouth as fast as they could. David picked up a pepperoncini chunk off the wrapper. The last evidence of the best sandwich he’d ever had, now in his stomach. He leaned back against his chair and patted his stomach. “My belly is very happy right now.”

“Mine too.” Patrick’s shoulders were relaxed and smile easy as he scrunched up his sandwich wrapper. “Seriously, thank you for that. It’s going to get me through the rest of the day.”

“Happy to support the cause.”

“I hope you’re not too full for dessert. I saved you a scone.” Patrick opened the pastry bag and slid it toward David. 

David’s eyes widened as he took in the familiar treat. “Cardamom glaze?”

“Of course. It’s how I make them now.”

“Oh.” David pinched his lips to one side of his mouth. “I might have to add that to the Yelp review I’m fleshing out up here.” He pointed to his head. “Open to suggestions from brilliant and devastatingly handsome customers.”

One of Patrick’s eyebrows arched and danced as he gave David a fairly obvious once-over. David fought the urge to squirm at the attention. “What else is this brilliant and devastatingly handsome customer going to say in this Yelp review?”

“I guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”

Patrick leaned forward and dropped his elbow on the table. “I’m not sure I can be that patient.”

“Something tells me you’re a patient guy.” David broke off the end of the scone and popped it in his mouth. “Mm.” He closed his eyes and savored the balance of flavors on his tongue. 

Patrick cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking of trying some other cardamom recipes.”

“Yeah?”

“I might need a taste tester.”

“I’d be happy to offer my services. As previously established, I have excellent taste and strong opinions about cardamom in baked goods.”

Though Patrick’s mouth turned down, it was clearly a smile. “I’m so glad you offered so I don’t have to ask the guy who visits in the afternoons. He’s more of a nutmeg guy.” 

David’s heart leapt into his throat. Of course there were other people who were drawn to Patrick’s easy charm. Why would David be special? Patrick’s teeth tugged on his bottom lip. That movement soothed the reactionary sting of Patrick’s words. He’s such a troll.

Warmth spread through his chest. “Nutmeg is too obvious for this time of year. Afternoon Guy sounds boring.”

“So boring. Especially compared to Lunch Guy.” 

Would it be too much to giggle? Because he kind of wanted to giggle. He did not giggle out loud, but he absolutely did in his mind. “Lunch Guy has good taste, huh?”

Patrick shrugged, which strained the deep blue fabric at his shoulders. “He keeps coming back to get my pastries, so obviously.”

“Hmm. He sounds predictable. Maybe he should mix it up.”

Patrick’s eyes widened for a moment, and his thumb scratched at the ball of sandwich wrapper. “I don’t know about that. Pastries don’t taste as good when the baker is sad. It’s a whole scientific thing.”

David bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to leave a mark. “We wouldn’t want a sad baker.”

“No, David, we wouldn’t.” Patrick’s smile was brighter than the sun reflecting off a bank of snow. “You’ve got-“ He gestured to his neck.

“What?” David wiped at his neck. 

“Um, paint, I think?” Patrick reached across the table. David held his breath as the heel of Patrick’s hand pressed against his neck and his thumb rubbed at his skin. David shivered. “Got it,” Patrick said breathily.

“Thanks,” David whispered. Now that he’d felt Patrick’s skin against his own, he needed more.


	5. Day 5

_**Day 5 of the Christmas market** _

“Are you going to ask him on a date?”

David ignored Stevie.

“David.”

He dipped his paintbrush in the blend of grey-blue he’d just mixed. The commission was really coming together, and he’d probably finish ahead of schedule. Which would be great so he could spend that extra time trying to line up a new place to exhibit his work since Mychelle had fallen through. 

“David.” She perched on the edge of his futon. “Are you going to ask him on a date?”

Ignoring her, he made a quick stroke. She held a tube of black paint dangerously close to the canvas. “What!” 

She grinned at him. A fucking menace. “Are you going to ask baker boy on a date?”

Turning one his stool, he faced her fully. “I don’t know. Why?”

After the world’s most obnoxious eye roll, seriously, it deserved a Guinness World Record, Stevie stood. “You’ve gone over there every day this week, and you’ve had lunch together twice. It’s Friday and dates often happen on weekends, sooooo why not ask?” She spoke slowly like she was explaining physics to a five-year-old.

“The Christmas Market runs all weekend. I hardly think he’ll have the time or energy to go out.”

Stevie snapped her fingers in the most annoyingly exaggerated “aww shucks” way he’d ever had to witness. “Gosh, David, such a shame that after Sunday, weekends don’t exist any longer and all of your chances will be gone.”

“Fuck off.”

She held her hands up. “All I’m saying is this guy seems into you too, and you’ve been significantly less annoying this week than usual. Selfishly, I’d like that to continue. Please ask him out.”

He made another careful stroke. “I’ll think about it,” he mumbled. Like he hadn’t been thinking about it almost non-stop. He was acutely aware of the ticking clock before the Christmas Market ended in two days, and David wouldn’t have an opportunity to pop in on Patrick any longer. If Patrick had a retail space, he wouldn’t be so worried because he could continue pestering the guy. Hard to pester someone in a corporate job.

An hour later, David bounded toward Patrick and a fresh batch of pastries. His steps faltered when he spotted Rachel but no Patrick. Maybe he’d run to the bathroom? 

He stood back and waited for the line to die down before he approached. His stomach swooped and rolled as Rachel made eye contact with him. Should he immediately order something? Or skip the pretense and ask after Patrick? 

“Hey, David. Patrick isn’t here.”

Well, that settled it. “Okay. Um, what do you have today?” He tried to send off indifferent vibes. 

Rachel let out a hollow laugh. “Not much, I’m afraid. We’ve been hella busy today so Patrick is baking more stock for the afternoon.”

“Good for you two. That’s great.” He forced cheer in his high-pitched voice. 

She shifted the pastries around to condense the dwindling stock into one case. “It is. I’m really happy to see people enjoying Patrick’s work.” She smiled at him. “I wish we had someone else to call who could help us out.”

“It’s just you two in the business?” He debated the ethics of subtly pumping Rachel for information about Patrick.

“Yeah, which means he’ll have to stop baking to make a delivery over here then go back to make more. Not the end of the world, but sure makes for a long day.” She sighed in a way that could have him swearing Rachel was Stevie’s twin. She looked up at him, one eyebrow raising slightly.

“I get the feeling you’re hinting at something.”

A full-blown grin broke out on her face. “I knew I liked you.”

“How do you know I’m not positively bedeviled with meetings today?” His mouth twitched.

“Gee, David, I don’t know. Maybe because you’re here and probably had planned to have another leisurely lunch with Patrick again.” He’d be embarrassed by her calling him out if she didn’t look so damn pleased by it.

“Okay, busted. Would it help if I went and picked up the stuff and brought it back?”

Rachel beamed at him. “Yes. That would help a ton.” Her expression grew more thoughtful. “Seriously though, if you don’t have time, that’s totally fine. You know I’m teasing, right?”

He snorted. “I’m familiar with the concept. Your delivery reminds me a lot of my best friend.”

“Everyone needs a spunky sidekick.” She studied him for a moment and her mouth opened, but she must have thought better of whatever she’d planned to say. Damn. “Here’s the address. Seriously, thank you. Make sure Patrick hooks you up with the good stuff.”

There were a few definitions of _good stuff_ kicking around in his mind. “Do you want me to watch the tent for a bit so you can grab lunch or go to the bathroom or something?”

Who the fuck was this imposter inhabiting in his body making him offer to do nice things?! Ugh.

Her eyes widened for a moment, but she quickly schooled her shock. “Actually, yes. A bathroom run would be great. Have you used Square before?”

He nodded. “By now, I’m intimately familiar with your pricing and your stock.” He grinned. “Go, go.”

Rachel rushed past him. “You’re an angel.”

“Never been accused of that before.”

Fortunately, there were no immediate customers. He mapped the address and learned it would be fastest to take a ride share over. Launching Uber Eats, he placed an order from Gino’s and set the delivery address to what Rachel had given him. He stared at the order confirmation and blinked. Was he seriously going to show up at Patrick’s kitchen like some creeper with sandwiches and a smile? A creeper sent by Patrick’s business partner, which made it less creepy maybe?

He’d helped a couple of customers by the time Rachel came back.

“Sorry, sorry, long lines. Everything go okay?”

He waved off her apology. “Sold a few things and didn’t overcharge anyone, so I think we’d call that a win. Want to grab food too?”

Rachel tilted her head and looked up at him. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, David.” She got in line at the German tent. A few minutes later, she was back and sending him on his merry way. David was tempted to get a pretzel for the road, but the prospect of seeing Patrick sooner pushed that idea from his mind.

David spent the Uber ride ping-ponging between wanting to turn around and hide, and planning how to use the serendipitous turn of events to make a move like ask him out or get his number. 

The Uber dropped him off and he stared at the entrance to the nondescript brick building. He could do it. He could be brave and march into Patrick’s kitchen and act like he should be there. Right? Right. Rachel wouldn’t have strongly suggested it if she didn’t think Patrick would want to see him. surely. She seemed to share Stevie’s trolling tendencies, but he didn’t peg her as cruel.

Letting out a long breath, he checked the delivery time on lunch and made his way up to the third floor. He knocked on door 313.

“It’s open,” he heard Patrick yell.

David opened the door. “What if I was a serial killer? You’d be dead already.”

Patrick spun around. His wide eyes and O-mouth quickly shifted into a huge smile. Picking up a towel, he wiped his hands and walked closer to David. “If you’re a serial killer, you’re not a very good one. Visiting m- the booth every day and leaving witnesses?”

“Damn. Guess I’ll have to pick another victim.” He closed the door behind him and stepped into the huge kitchen. “This is nice.” Stainless steel pots hung from ceiling-mounted racks and clean subway tile lined the walls behind endless steel countertops. 

“It belongs to a friend. I’m grateful to get to use it this week.”

David noticed cooling racks with baked goods sprawled across a counter at the opposite wall. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”

“We had a busy morning.”

David returned his attention to Patrick. “That’s, um, what Rachel said. She may have suggested it would be helpful to have someone bring completed things back to restock so you didn’t have to stop baking.”

Patrick’s eyes went comically wide. “She did, did she?”

David bit the inside of his cheek as he nodded, squeezing the inside of his pockets so his hands didn’t act out his anxiousness. 

“And she sent you?” Patrick didn’t sound bothered. He sounded delighted, actually. David could work with delighted. 

“I guess Afternoon Guy isn’t as trustworthy.”

Patrick snorted. “This is extremely generous of you.”

David shrugged. “It’s selfish, really. This way I get first pick of the fresh goods as payment for my generosity.” He glanced at Patrick as he wandered over to inspect the cooling deliciousness and realized he saw right through David’s deflection. 

“Are you sure you have time for this?”

David nodded. “I’ve been pretty inspired this week so I got a lot done the past few nights. A break from my easel sounds nice.” He ground his teeth together. Definitely didn’t mean to say that. Really didn’t mean to say that.

“Good.” Patrick grinned and turned back to one of the ovens.

“Want me to start packaging these up or something?”

“Actually, yeah, that would be great. There are boxes on the shelf under the counter.” Patrick pointed to another part of the kitchen.

David removed his scarf and coat, and hung on a hook next to Patrick’s. After thoroughly washing his hands, he found a couple of folded boxes and a stack of unfolded ones. Using the folded as an example, he quickly folded a few more. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. “Any chance you’re hungry?”

“Starving. Want to order something?” Patrick looked up from shifting scones to a metal rack. 

“I’m way ahead of you.” He offered a lopsided smile and strode toward the door. “Be right back.” A couple minutes later, David returned with a Gino’s bag.

“Oh my God. You’re an angel.”

“Rachel accused me of the same thing. Don’t get used to it. I’m not this nice usually.”

“I somehow doubt that.”

David’s skin tingled at Patrick’s attention. “I can package these up and run them over while you eat. She was getting pretty low when I left.”

Patrick accepted the bag David passed to him. He stuck his face in it and inhaled. “So good. You are seriously a lifesaver. Gino’s two days in a row? A guy could get used to this.”

David’s wide grin tugged at his cheeks. “A guy could get used to delicious baked goods every day.” He turned to walk back to the sink to wash his hands again before he admitted too much. Asked for too much.

“Those can wait. Eat with me.” He heard Patrick unwrapping the sandwiches. 

“It’ll save. I can run these back really quick.” As he reached for the tap, a sandwich appeared under his nose. “You play dirty.” He spun around and practically into Patrick’s strong arms. His lips were definitely within kissing distance. 

“Did it work?” Patrick held the sandwich up. His teasing smile left David breathing heavier than was warranted. 

David looked between the sandwich and Patrick’s doe-eyes. “Yes. That smells divine.” He snatched it out of Patrick’s hand and sniffed. “I’ll have you know, the only reason I volunteered for this mission was the promise of Gino’s.”

Patrick’s smile deepened. “Okay, David.” They both knew David was full of shit.

They stood shoulder-to-shoulder and leaned back against a counter as they ate quickly. When they finished, they quickly boxed up what David needed to take over to Rachel. Patrick loaded the boxes into oversized tote bags and ordered an Uber while David put his coat back on. 

“When you get back, I’ll have dessert waiting for you. A cardamom treat.”

He accepted the heavy bags. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more motivated for physical exertion while clothed.”

Patrick’s eyes flashed with heat. “Glad to offer proper motivation.” He licked his lips. “Thanks again, David.”

“You’re welcome. Back soon.” He fled before he leaned in and kissed Patrick’s wet lips. 

By the time he made it back to the kitchen, he’d mostly squashed the urge to lift Patrick onto the clean, stainless steel counter, step between his thick thighs, and kiss him senseless. Mostly. But of course it came rushing back when he walked back into the kitchen and found Patrick had shed the button-up to work in a white undershirt. A thin piece of cotton that accentuated his broad shoulders, thick biceps and defined pecs. So fucking delicious.

“Rachel texted to make sure I hooked you up with all the bakes you wanted.”

“She’s good people.” David hung his coat and scarf.

“She really is.” Patrick’s tone changed. “Rachel is, um, my ex.” Patrick shot a quick glance in David’s direction as he drizzled icing on something probably delicious. 

David froze. Of course she was. They were both so wholesome and snarky and perfect for each other. His first instinct was to run home and hide under his blanket in a cloud of _I knew it was too good to be true_. But a part of him fought the self-preservation instinct and focused on Patrick’s clear flirting and Rachel encouraging David to go to Patrick. A moment of personal growth he actively fought tooth and nail for. Objectively, there were signs Patrick was interested, and David leaned into those signs. “Okay.” He hoped his voice didn’t betray his inner turmoil and projected a calm curiosity. David watched Patrick drizzle uniform swirls over rolls with focus and precision. 

“We were together for a lot of years and it never worked. And, uh, this year, I realized why.”

David remained silent to give Patrick the space he needed to say whatever he felt like he wanted to share. But, fuck, it was hard to keep his big mouth shut. 

“She’s amazing, but I realized I’m gay and we couldn’t be the partners each other deserved.” He looked up at David and must have liked whatever he saw on David’s face because Patrick’s shoulders relaxed and his frown shifted into a smile. “Anyway, I just figured I’d share.”

He bit his tongue to stop himself from shouting _why? Why did you want me to know that?_ Did Patrick see something there beyond the flirting and maybe a fun fuck? Because a fling certainly didn’t need to know that kind of personal history.

“Thanks for sharing. It’s great you two were able to stay close.” That was an appropriate response, right? Attempting to be a functioning adult with empathy and appropriate emotions was really fucking difficult.

Patrick audibly exhaled. “It is. She keeps me on my toes and pushes me out of my comfort zone.” He gave David a pointed look. 

“I’ve got one of those in my life too.” He gravitated toward the end of the counter where Patrick worked. “Stevie is my best friend, former, um, friend with benefits I guess? Not exactly an ex but something. We work much better as friends. She’s great for me.” Patrick seemed momentarily surprised, probably by the she pronouns, but he didn’t seem to dwell on it. People often made assumptions about his sexuality. “But if you ever tell Stevie I said something nice about her, I’ll make that Yelp review scathing.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” Patrick’s huge eyes twinkled like a Disney prince.

A few hours later, David had mastered glazing scones and frosting cinnamon rolls. He’d had two of Patrick’s new cardamom knots and a couple more tucked away in a small box along with a few things to take to Stevie. 

The kitchen door burst open. “We sold out with an hour left so I closed up shop and brought refreshments.” Rachel strode in and began unpacking a grocery bag. “I thought Bailey’s hot chocolate sounded good.”

“Bless you. I’ll find glasses.” David moved to check the cupboards for glasses. 

Rachel laughed. “I’ll start the chocolate.”

“I’ll keep working I guess.” Patrick grinned at David.

David boxed up cooled pastries as Rachel updated Patrick on the day’s hottest sellers.

A few minutes later, Rachel passed the drinks around. She poured the Bailey’s with a heavy hand. Just the way David liked it. 

The dynamic between Patrick and Rachel carried the same loving teasing of his and Stevie’s friendship, but not quite skirting the line of going too far like he and Stevie did. It was clear they had a close bond and cared deeply for each other, but there was absolutely no sense of any messy and lingering emotions. If anything, Rachel seemed to take on the role of wingman with gusto. Talking up Patrick’s business smarts and athletic achievements and she’d somehow managed to mention his volunteer work at an animal shelter. Unfortunately for her, the efforts had the opposite effect. It became even clearer that Patrick was a much better person than David. Patrick was the kind of guy who’d immediately find someone to marry on a dating app and become a testimonial on their TV commercials. David was the kind of guy who closed an account after dozens of failed attempts, only to get drunk and sign up again a month later. Rinse and repeat.

David was spiraling and he needed to get out of there. Anxiety could be such a prick. He really should go get ready for the exhibition opening party at Teresa’s gallery anyway. He finished his hot chocolate and moved to rinse the cup out in the sink. “I should get going. I have to go to a gallery opening tonight for work.”

Patrick frowned briefly, which was so damn sweet, but he recovered quickly. “Is it an opening for your work?

David shook his head. “No, it’s a friend’s gallery. I’m hoping to do a bit of networking. I had a thing fall through a few days ago and hope to fill a gap in my schedule.” As long as he could push his anxiety about Patrick to the side long enough to force some charm.

Patrick’s eyes looked sympathetic. “You’ve been the MVP today.”

“Is that like the VIP?”

Patrick and Rachel laughed, but he didn’t feel anything hurtful in it. “Yeah, David, it’s like the VIP. MVP stands for Most Valuable Pastry Assistant.”

“Wouldn’t that make it the MVPA?” He slid his coat on. “And I know the P doesn’t stand for pastry. Nice try though.”

“Thanks for everything today, David. You really helped save our asses.” Rachel smiled at him.

“Happy to help.” 

Patrick approached him with a box. “Payment for your MVPA services.”

David accepted the box. “The cardamom knots are delicious. I like them almost as much as those rolls from Oregon.” David smirked.

“Almost, huh? I like a challenge.”

“Good.” David tugged his lips between his teeth as he turned toward the door. 

Patrick placed a hand at the small of his back as he opened the door for him. He’d give all the cardamom knots back if it meant he could feel Patrick’s touch against his skin instead of through an undershirt, sweater and thick coat. 

“Seriously, David. Thank you for your help today. And for the sandwich. And for keeping me company.” Patrick laughed. “You saved the day.”

“My ego doesn’t need all this praise or I won’t fit in the Uber.” He stepped into the hallway and turned back to Patrick. “I had fun.”

“Me too. Tomorrow?”

“Save me a cardamom knot.”

Patrick leaned forward, and for one sweet second, David thought he was going to kiss him. Fuck. He really wanted Patrick to kiss him. He didn’t even mind Rachel was there, though he’d prefer not to have an audience. “I’ll save you two.”

David shook his head at the troll. “Good luck baking all the extras for a Saturday rush. Bye.”

“Bye, David."


	6. Day 6

_**Day 6 of the Christmas market** _

David rolled over in his bed and grabbed for his phone. He should have gotten out of bed when he first woke up, but ugh. A long morning of dozing in and out while stress thinking were what Saturdays were made of. After the shit show gallery opening and tossing and turning all night thinking about Patrick, he didn’t want to get out of bed until Monday. But he had a commission to finish and gallerists to contact about potential openings. And a run-in with Sebastien to put out of his memory. Fucking ugh. 

Seriously though. Of all the people to run into, Sebastien Fucking Raine? He hadn’t seen that asshole in over a year since he’d moved to L.A. What the fuck had he been doing back in Toronto and at Teresa’s opening. Acting like seeing David had been the highlight of his week. Trying the same moves to get David to go home with him. Though his moves weren’t as subtle as David remembered. Needling him and poking at barely scabbed over wounds. Telling him he looked _healthy_? Yeah, really slick way to point out he carried more weight these days now that he was _actually taking care of himself_ by eating regular meals and cutting off the drugs. Seeing Sebastien had put David’s spiral about Patrick into overdrive.

He turned on his phone screen and glanced at the time. Already noon? Shit. His entire day was shot, so he should probably skip the Christmas Market. If he were lucky, he’d get there by two. But then what? Show up cranky and scowling? He wasn’t in the mood to fake being happy, and he didn’t want Patrick to see his grumpy side and run for the hills. What if Patrick was waiting to have lunch with David again and he was hangry when David got there? Everything was fucked. 

But if he didn’t go, what would Patrick think? They had finally spent some quality time together. Patrick had opened up about Rachel, and David had opened about some things, and David liked the guy even more. Plus, there was only one day left in the market. If he didn’t go, Patrick would probably assume he wasn’t interested after having spent time together, which was the exact opposite of how he felt. He was just… scared. 

Anyway, he’d told Patrick he’d be there, and he didn’t want to be responsible for a sad baker.

David dragged himself to his coffee maker and turned it on. As he thought about it, he’d been in a shit mood about Mychelle and off and on throughout the week, and he’d felt better around Patrick each time. Maybe it would be the same today. A dose of Patrick to chase the Sebastien away.

A while later, he was showered, feeling somewhat human, and in a slightly (slightly) better mood. He took an Uber to the market to save on the longer walk from his apartment. If he thought it had been busy during the week, it was nothing compared to the throng of people crowding the aisles. The Uber dropped him off near the ice skating rink, which was full of people. He passed people in Santa hats and elf ears and ugly sweaters and reindeer antlers. It was… a lot. 

His mood picked up a bit more as he passed the tents leading to Patrick’s. More still when he saw Patrick in the distance, smiling at a customer. He let out a breath as his shoulders relaxed. Patrick turned his head at that moment and his polite customer service smile turned into a toothy grin. It knocked David’s breath away. He offered a dorky wave as he continued walking toward the tent. 

Rachel greeted him first. “Look who finally decided to show up.” She grinned at him. “Late night?”

“Rach, leave him alone.” Patrick’s cheeks turned beet-red as he bagged pastries for a customer.

“I was in a sugar coma from yesterday.” Yeah, going to the market was a good idea. He already felt better. “All those cardamom knots.”

“Aww darn. Guess that means you don’t want the ones Patrick set aside for you?”

David’s eyes widened. Stevie’s doppelgänger was shaping up to be a menace. “Mm, pretty sure I didn’t say that.”

“I don’t know. That’s what I heard.”

David feigned shock as he turned toward Patrick. “Et tu, Patrick?”

Rachel snorted. “Go take your lunch. I’ve got this.”

David’s eyes widened briefly. He was at least an hour later than he’d been all week. Patrick hadn’t taken his lunch yet? 

Patrick came around to the front of the tent. “Want to join me for lunch?”

It was nice he didn’t assume. “I would.” Did it count as a date if it was spontaneous?

“You pick the place and my treat.” Sounding more date-like. “You helped so much yesterday. Least I can do.” Less date-like, but still nice.

“My choice? You’re placing a lot of faith in me.”

Patrick smiled and the wrinkles around his eyes deepened. “I trust you. Lead the way.”

David was tempted to get a brat so he could watch Patrick eat one, but the Thai place he’d noticed yesterday sounded too good to pass up. “How do you feel about Thai food?”

“Really good.”

With the increased Saturday traffic, it took longer to get their food and there was no open table under the heated tent. Fortunately they found a picnic bench and sat down. “If we had more time, I’d suggest we go back to my studio to eat in the warmth, but I’d feel bad keeping you too long. It looks like a busy day.” David removed one glove to eat his salad roll. He didn’t dare glance at Patrick to see his reaction to going back to the studio.

“It has been. Busiest day so far, but luckily we had some help yesterday so we got a lot of extra stock made.” Patrick elbowed him. “I’d like to see your studio sometime.”

David looked up at Patrick. “You’re welcome any time.” A bit of a cop-out, but he didn’t want to ask Patrick out with the shadow of Sebastien hanging over him. He had tomorrow.

Patrick smiled and nodded as he chewed. “How was the event last night?”

The salad roll turned to sawdust in David’s mouth. He swallowed thickly. “Not that great, actually. I should have stayed and helped you.” The words tumbled out of his mouth. 

One side of Patrick’s mouth ticked up as he looked down at his noodles. 

“The desserts were awful. It was a good thing I had the promise of cardamom knots waiting for me at home. There were these little fruit tarts that looked and tasted like plastic. Gross.” His hand was flying as he talked. He didn’t have a chance to be embarrassed about his flamboyant tendencies because Patrick looked at him with raw fondness. 

“Blasphemy. I’m glad I could give you something to look forward to.” Patrick’s gaze lingered on David for a long moment before he returned his attention to his food. 

Funny thing. For how cold it was eating in the freezing temperature, David felt pretty warm. “Me too.” He bit off a piece of the chicken satay. “I know you’re considering options, but if you ever wanted to get into catering pretentious art events, I know a few people.”

Patrick paused in wrapping noodles onto his fork and looked up at David with his enormous chocolate eyes. “You’d do that?”

David gave a dismissive shake of his head and shoulder. “Of course. You’re really talented. If the pastries weren’t incredible, I wouldn’t have taken a lunch break six days in a row for the first time, in, well, ever.”

Patrick’s eyes widened knowingly. Damn David’s big mouth. “The pastries are that good, huh?”

“Yup. Uh huh. The pastries. So good.” He took a big bite and made sure to chew slowly.

“I’m sure the _pastries_ have appreciated you taking unprecedented lunch breaks this week.”

“Yeah?” The control on his smile slipped and it went wider than he wanted, but Patrick’s answering smile lit David up from the inside. He definitely needed to ask this guy out. Tomorrow. Go big or go home on the last day of the market, right? If Patrick said _no, sorry, this is just my customer service friendliness_ , then he could wallow at home and not worry about the Christmas market taunting him. 

“I almost didn’t come today.” David winced at the way Patrick’s face fell. “Last night was really rough, but I figured the, uh, pastries could cheer me up.”

Patrick’s smile turned soft. “Is it working?”

“It is.” He bit the inside of his cheek and looked down at his lunch.

Fat snowflakes fell from the sky and landed in David’s food container. “Shit.” He looked up and got a snowflake in the eye. They fell fast and furious.

“That’s coming down hard.”

David shoved the last of his chicken in his mouth. “I guess the snow thinks you should get back to work. I have a commission I could probably finish today so I should probably get going anyway.” 

“Thanks for coming by.” Patrick stood.

David stood and smiled as he wiped water off his forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Patrick reached out and squeezed David’s arm. “See you tomorrow.”

When David reached the studio, he realized he hadn’t even bought any pastries. Shit.


	7. Day 7

_**Day 7 of the Christmas market** _

David wiped the sleep from his eyes as he shuffled to the kitchen to make coffee. 

“It’s in the pot.” Stevie scowled at him over the rim of her mug. 

“You’re a saint.”

“I know.”

“Sleep okay?”

“Yeah. You know I always sleep better in your guest room. The great weed certainly helped.”

“Mm, that was good.” He poured himself a cup and doctored it up. After he’d had a couple of sips and felt more human, he reached into the freezer to pull out a pre-cooked quiche he could heat fairly quickly. “Hungry?”

“Starved.”

He liked that they both handled mornings the same way. One-word answers and no need to fill the silence. 

Once he’d finished his second cup, the quiche was ready. 

“You know what would go great with this?”

David shook his head as he chewed.

“One of _Patrick’s_ chocolate rolls.”

“Seriously? Couldn’t make it through breakfast before giving me shit?”

“Would I be me if I let you live in peace that long?”

“I hope you get salmonella.” 

“I hope you get laid.”

David snorted. “Same.”

Stevie smirked at him as she topped off their mugs. “What time are you heading to the market? Want company?”

David held out a finger. “You are absolutely not welcome to join me. I don’t need a foul-mouthed third-wheel cockblocking me. And I don’t think the world is ready for you and Rachel to be in the same space. Give Patrick and I a chance first, please.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re that interested in him, huh?”

He carefully dabbed both corners of his mouth with his napkin. “Yes.”

“Wow.”

“I _know_.”

“This is the longest you’ve dated someone in a while.” The since Sebastien went unsaid.

“We’re not dating. I’m harassing him at his place of business on a daily business and sometimes we share a meal so I feel less guilty about said harassment.” He knew he was full of shit. He also knew she’d call him on it, but he needed to keep up the pretense.

“What I see is a guy you haven’t fucked yet who likes your company enough to want to keep seeing you.”

One side of his mouth tugged back. “I guess that’s one way to look at it.” A nice way to look at it.

“Mind if I stay here and watch your good cable?”

“You know I only pay for that for you.”

She shrugged. “I know. I should probably get your money’s worth.”

He snorted and cleared their places.

David took a little extra time getting ready. He chose his softer Neil Barrett sweater, though his coat would cover it anyway. Not a single hair out of place. He even selected the navy blue cashmere scarf hiding in the back of his scarf drawer. By the time he arrived at the market, he had mentally sketched three possible ways to approach asking Patrick out. 

He was nearly smiling, like, real smiling, by the time he spotted Patrick’s tent. The near smile faded at the huge line of pastry hungry shoppers. He couldn’t blame them because they were really that good.

For a moment, he debated between getting in line and standing off to the side to wait for Patrick, but the sweat at Patrick’s temples and his frantic smile when he spotted David convinced him to get in line. With each customer he and Rachel efficiently helped ahead of him, and each one getting in line behind him, his heart sank. There was no way Patrick could get away for lunch. Even if Patrick offered, David couldn’t leave Rachel alone with that kind of crowd. 

When David got a good look at the pastry case, he saw it crowded with stacks of boxes at the back of the tent. They must have been baking all night, which would explain the bags under Patrick’s eyes. For a moment, he wished Patrick had asked him for help, but then he remembered they weren’t actually dating and why would he? Plus, they hadn’t even exchanged phone numbers. Fuck. He had seriously built up a Whole Thing in his head, hadn’t he?

Patrick was still helping someone when it was David’s turn in line. Rachel winked at him and offered to help the person behind him. He liked her. David pretended to consider his options as he waited Patrick out. 

“Hey, David.” 

David looked up and returned Patrick’s tired but happy smile. “Hi. Great crowd today.”

Patrick barked out a laugh. “Absolutely. We’ve been swamped non-stop. Last-minute shoppers I guess.”

David turned and saw the line even longer than when he’d arrived. “That’s great. I’m happy for you. Well, I won’t keep you. I will just buy some pastries and get on my way so you can keep kicking ass.” He forced a smile.

Patrick studied him for a moment. “Okay. Yeah. You sure?”

David nodded a little too enthusiastically. “Mmhmm.”

“Excuse me? Do you have any gluten free pastries?”

Patrick looked at the pushy woman next to David. “One moment, please.”

David wanted to snap at her. Couldn’t she see this was David’s shot to ask Patrick out? 

“I’m in a hurry. I’m sure this young man won’t mind.”

David arched a very snarky eyebrow at her. She wilted a bit.

Patrick reached under the table and popped back up holding a pastry box. “For you.”

David accepted the box, letting his gloved fingers brush Patrick’s. “You sure?”

“Absolutely,” Patrick said, his huge eyes boring into David’s. There was something behind them, but David couldn’t read it. 

“Are the cinnamon rolls gluten free?”

David’s jaw ticked, but he stopped himself from chewing out one of Patrick’s customers. “Okay, well, I’ll let you get back to it. good luck today.” David swallowed the lump in his throat. It wasn’t going to plan at all. “Goodbye, Patrick. Thanks for these.” He held up the box and shot Patrick one last lopsided smile. He turned and walked away before he cried or yelled at someone or shoved a pastry in his mouth.

He launched Uber Eats and had a Gino’s order sent to his place for he and Stevie. He needed comfort food. Stat.

By the time he made it back to his place, he was a borderline wreck. He’d left without Patrick’s phone number, without leaving Patrick his phone number, without asking him on a date. If felt as if their week of a growing connection disappeared in a flash. Patrick didn’t have a bakery he could visit or a Facebook page he could like. It would be creepy as fuck to track him down at the commercial kitchen. Could David be happy with a week of great conversation and flirting with a great guy and move on?

Absofuckinglutely not. His life wasn’t a goddamn tragic Nicholas Spark book where he’d sadly move on. No! He wanted to see Patrick again, dammit, and he’d figure out a way. He’d take the day—or a couple days—to regroup and make a new plan of action. 

When he entered his place, he found Stevie curled up on the couch under the duvet off the guest bed and watching _Forensic Files_. 

“You look cozy.”

She frowned at him. “Why are you here and not having lunch with your hot baker?”

“I’m having lunch delivered here to have lunch with my annoying friend instead.” He dropped onto the couch and dropped his head against the back of it, holding the box in his lap. 

“Seriously. Why are you here?”

“It was too busy and he couldn’t get away.”

“Did you ask him out?”

He shook his head. “Some pushy lady kept interrupting us and he had a huge line so I just… left.”

“Ouch.” Stevie grimaced at him. “I’m sorry.”

“Mm.” His phone buzzed in his pocket. He sat the pastry box on the end table and checked his phone. “Lunch is here.”

They devoured their sandwiches, a season of Forensic Files, and moved on to old _American Confidential_ episodes, dozing in and out. Stevie didn’t mention Patrick and he didn’t bring him up. It was nice to throw himself into comforting TV for a while. He hadn’t even thought about Sebastien or Mychelle or the gaps in his exhibit schedule for the next year.

The sun dropped and David reached over to turn on the lamp on the end table. He spotted the forgotten pastry box sitting there. David stared at it and realized he hadn’t actually ordered anything nor had he watched Patrick box anything up. He’d already had it packaged and… waiting for him? 

David reached over and grabbed the box.

“Sugar time? Oh yeah.” Stevie reached for the box, and David slapped her hand away.

“Hold on. Give me a minute.”

“Need a minute with Patrick’s box, huh? Is there a hole on one side for his dick? Or your dick?”

He glared at her. “That video stopped being funny years ago.”

She huffed a breath. “It will never stop being funny, David.”

David lifted the lid an inch to peek inside, as though its contents might bite him. He immediately identified the cardamom knots and the scones with the cardamom glaze, but there were a few rolls he hadn’t seen yet. But they looked familiar somehow. He stuck his hand in and pulled one out. Puffy, croissant-like dough swirled with a thin glaze and brown specks. He immediately smelled the unmistakable scent of cardamom when the roll got within eating distance. 

Oh.

Oh God.

He didn’t.

“Why do you look like that roll is your assumed dead husband coming back from the war?”

“He made me the cardamom roll.”

“I thought he did that the other day.”

David shook his head as he smiled at the pasty. “No, I told him about these rolls I had in Oregon once.”

Stevie sucked in a breath. “He made you some obscure roll because you said you liked it?”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus.”

David took a bite and moaned. It was perfect. Flaky and lightly sweet and buttery and the cardamom. Fuck. The cardamom was perfect. 

“Need a minute alone with that thing?”

“Maybe,” he mumbled while chewing.

“Give me one of those.” He reached in and flipped back the box lid. Her hand froze. “Um.”

_David,_   
_I tried out a new recipe and hoped you could taste test this one for me. Care to share your expert review with me? 7pm tonight at Cafe Benelux?_   
_Patrick_

David and Stevie stared at each other for a beat, then he scrambled for his phone. “Fuck! It’s six forty-five!”

Stevie pushed the pastry in his mouth. “Eat while you get ready! Go! Go!”

David ran to his bathroom to freshen up his hair and cologne. He put on his lightning bolt sweater and the jeans that made his ass look great. A record-breaking eleven minutes later, he rushed out to the living room. “Okay?”

Stevie barely glanced up from the TV. “You know you look great.” 

“Your ability to boost my confidence astounds me.” He ordered an Uber, then marched over to his coat rack and bundled up. 

She paused the TV. “Hey.”

He turned toward her, startled by her soft tone.

“I’m only going to say this once so you’d better be listening. I’m proud of you for putting yourself out there. I’m glad to see you happy. I’ll make myself scarce in case you both come back here.”

One side of his mouth turned up. “Thanks, Stevie. No need to leave. I’m, uh, not going to go home with him or bring him back here.”

Her eyes rounded. “Whoa.”

“I _know_. I’m not saying I won’t invite him home after a second date, but he’s got to be exhausted from the week, and I want to make sure I don’t fuck this up.”

Before they shared any more awkward sentimentality, he ran out to catch his Uber. Five minutes later, the driver dropped him off in front of the restaurant. His stomach twisted as he walked inside and gave the host his name. Numbly, he followed the host to Patrick’s table. His stomach twisted tighter when he caught Patrick glancing at his phone. Normally he didn’t mind being late, but he didn’t want to keep Patrick waiting. Not on a first… date? Especially.

“Here you go.”

Patrick’s head snapped up. “David! You made it.”

David thanked the host and took his coat off. He gathered his nerve as he slid his coat on the back of the chair. He pulled the chair out and tried to ignore the way the growing silence choked him. Dropping down, he clasped his hands on his lap. “Hi,” he said on a breathy exhale. “I’m really sorry I’m late. I didn’t actually open your pastry box until about thirty minutes ago and rushed here as fast as I could. I promise I wouldn’t normally be late for a da— dinner. Thank you for staying even though I was an asshole and made you wait.” He cut himself off before he showed too much of his shrill rambling too soon. But miraculously, Patrick’s smile grew as David talked.

With guts that left David breathless, Patrick held out his hand, palm up. David stared at it for a moment, then tentatively placed his hand on top. As soon as Patrick’s fingers wrapped around his own, David’s body released all the tension from the day.

“As soon as you walked away, I realized I was an idiot for not writing my phone number on the box. I spent the rest of the day kicking myself for it and worrying you wouldn’t come and thinking I’d misread your signals all week.”

David pressed his lips together for a moment as he watched the way Patrick’s thumb traced on the back of David’s hand. “What signals did you read?”

“Are you fishing, David?”

He looked up and fell into the depths of Patrick’s eyes. “Maybe.”

“I can only speak for myself,” Patrick said as he looked at their joined hands. “But from out first conversation on Monday, I knew I wanted to get to know you better. There’s something about you, David.” He looked up and smiled. “And I kind of got the feeling you might feel the same way?”

David took a sip from the water at his place setting. “We’re really diving in here, aren’t we?”

“If you’d rather we play coy for a while, I can do that.” Patrick smirked as he started to pull his hand back, but David stopped him.

He gave his head a shake and rolled his eyes a bit. “Fine. Yes. I feel the same way. I practically stalked you at your place of work, and frankly, I’m relieved to hear this isn’t just your brand of customer service friendliness. Because people creeping on people because of their customer service isn’t something I’m on board with, but this felt… different? Real? I guess?”

Patrick squeezed his hand. “Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page. I’m also very glad you opened the pastry box, because that would have been awkward if you hadn’t. I’m an idiot for not leaving my number.”

David looked away. “I, um, may have already been thinking about how to try to reach out to you? Some light social media searches, maybe. Nothing too intense.”

“As long as it’s not intense, then it’s fine,” Patrick teased.

“I realize you’re teasing, but I also feel like you need to know now that there’s very little about me that’s not intense.” He grimaced.

“Good.”

David tilted his head and studied Patrick. Had he really, maybe, possibly found someone who didn’t think he was too much right off the bat? “Good?”

“I like intense. My life could use some of that.”

“Well. It’s a good thing I answered your call for free samples then.”

Patrick flashed his megawatt smile. “David, you have no idea how grateful I am for that.”

They chatted easily until the waiter came and took their orders. David had no idea what the future held, but he did know that being around Patrick felt like nothing else he’d ever experienced. In Patrick’s company, he felt clever and sexy and funny and interesting without having to really work for it. He was just being… himself.

“So,” David said as the waiter left.

“So.” Patrick took a sip of his beer.

“You made the cardamom bun.”

Patrick grinned behind his glass. “I did.”

“Are you some sort of pastry savant or?” David’s heartbeat kicked up.

“Okay, it seemed maybe cute at the time? But now that I’m about to say it out loud, um, I’m sorry if this seems weird.” A sweet blush crept up Patrick’s neck. 

David bit the inside of his cheek. No matter what Patrick said, David was pretty damn sure he’d be charmed. The fact he’d learned something David like and figured out how to make it? After barely knowing each other a few days? It made him feel special and not a lot people had treated him as special before.

Patrick ran his fingers through his curls. “Okay, so I may have Googled ‘Bend Oregon’ and ‘cardamom roll’ and tested a few possible recipes and, uh, called the bakery.”

David’s mouth fell open. “Y-you did all that? For me?”

“I did. Is that weird? It’s weird. That’s too far.” Patrick took a long drink of his water, and David stared wantonly at his neck. “I don’t really know how to flirt or show someone I’m interested, and I kinda hoped I could tell you through baked goods.”

They’d stopped holding hands after a while so they could look at the menu, but David already missed the contact. He held his hand out, and Patrick audibly sighed and relaxed his shoulders. “I mean, I hoped that the cardamom glaze and cardamom knots and cardamom rolls meant something more than trying to make a customer happy.”

“More like trying to impress this guy I wanted to ask out on a date.”

“Not just buttering me up for that Yelp review, huh?”

“Well, that too, obviously.” Patrick grinned.

David cleared his throat. “Since you’re being open with me, I feel like I should share I’m really shit at dating and stuff. But, that said, I also feel extremely motivated to, um, try? With you? If that’s something you’re interested in.” He blew out a breath.

“David, I’m very interested in trying with you. And, full disclosure, I haven’t actually dated a man yet. So, this feels new for me too. Maybe we can try together?”

David didn’t even try to hold back on his smile. “I’d like that.”

“Me too.”

The dinner passed too fast. They dragged it out with an extra round of drinks and dessert and ignoring the tab on the table until it became clear the staff wanted to close up. David didn’t want to leave, but he also wanted to leave so he could go to sleep and be closer to seeing Patrick again. 

“I suppose we should head out.” Patrick blushed a little when the waiter returned his card with a pointed smile and thank you.

They stood and bundled up for the cold. Patrick found David’s hand before they took a single step toward the door. And it felt really… nice. Right. Very right. When they reached the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, David stopped and took a deep breath as he turned to face Patrick.

“I had a fantastic time with you tonight. All week, really.”

Patrick beamed at him. “Me too, David. I’m really glad you eventually opened the pastry box after pouting all day.”

“Hey, who said anything about pouting?!” He totally pouted all day. Patrick simply smirked at him.

“Okay, fine, maybe a little bit of pouting. But, um, is it too soon to ask you out for a second date?” David bit his bottom lip.

Patrick reached up and adjusted David’s scarf. His gaze left a hot trail across his skin as he looked at David’s lips, then moved up to his eyes. “As long as I can ask you out for a third.”

David cupped Patrick’s face in his gloved hands and leaned in until Patrick’s lips met his. The physical connection between them chased the freezing air away. Patrick’s fingers gripped David’s scarf, and he used the leverage to pull David closer. He’d thought quite a bit about kissing Patrick’s sassy mouth throughout the week, but his imagination was nothing compared to the real thing. Patrick’s soft moan, David’s, um, less soft one, the way his arms draped easily over Patrick’s shoulders and the perfect way Patrick’s hands gripped around David’s waist. He’d never experienced a more perfect kiss. Someone nearby wolf-whistled and Patrick laughed into their kiss. 

David pulled back far enough to talk against Patrick’s lips. “It’s a deal.”

Patrick grinned. “It’s a date,” he said before leaning in for another kiss.


	8. Yelp review

**Yelp review by DRose83 for Sugar Daddy Bakery**

_January 11_  
_Five stars_

Despite the unfortunate name, Sugar Daddy Bakery is the best bakery in Toronto. The proprietor is extremely skilled with his hands, and his skills with kneading dough are unrivaled. I had the pleasure of trying his pastries at the Christmas market last month. Since then, I’ve eaten my weight in his baked goods. If you’re looking for delicious pastries for your next special event, or to have around the office, please consider Sugar Daddy Bakery. If you don’t mind your sweets with a bit of snark, you won’t be disappointed. I heartily recommend anything with cardamom (the flakiness of his cardamom rolls are perfection) and the molasses gingerbread is particularly delicious as well. I have it on good authority the baker will expand his offerings to include more citrus sweets for the spring. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm over on Tumblr at [lisamc-21](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lisamc-21).


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